It's All In the Name
by StarsAndSparks44
Summary: Tim Shepard’s always hated his name.


It's All In the Name

Summary: Tim Shepard's always hated his name.

Notes: Hi again everyone! Well, this idea's been bugging me for a while now, so I figured I'd just get it over with and write it. I hope you all enjoy this story :) P.S. I've fixed it up a little, so hopefully there are no more grammar mistakes!

S.E. Hinton has done a wonderful job owning the Outsiders, so what makes you think that I do?

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"Back so soon, Shepard?" Lifting up my head, I glanced at the secretary of the police station. He was leaning forwards in his chair, resting his elbows on the desk in front of him. He looked like some sort of cat, and he was giving me a smug grin. It made my blood boil.

Each time he grinned at me like that – which was each time I got hauled in here – I wanted to punch him, knock some of sense into him, cut him down until he wished _**he **_were the one being led in, half blinded by the blood pouring into his eye from the cut that damn hobo gave him when he brought that damn pop bottle down on his head. Woozy too, from 3 sleepless nights in a row worrying about his kid sister, in the hospital on a drug overdose.

Damn family.

On the outside, though, I stayed cool, settling for sending him a glare that shuts people up real fast. I didn't get to be the leader of my own gang by clocking everyone who looks at me badly, after all. Or at least, not directly. I had my ways to get back at people who crossed me.

I didn't have to deal with those stuck up bastards for much longer, though, because within ten minutes I was lying on the concrete slab of a bed in one of the small, dimly-lit cells. The only sounds I could hear were the quiet whispers of the inmates, about me no doubt. Whatever, let 'em talk. So long as none of them spoke up and bothered me, I'd be able to sleep, and think of what to do in the morning...

"What the hell are you doing back here?"

Well, it seems I spoke too soon.

Turning my head, I glared across the hallway at the about-to-be-very-sorry bugger who was disturbing me.

He looked pretty young, probably around Curly's age. His hair – blond as Dally's is, I thought – was cut in weird tufts, like someone took a blade to it. Which, considering the long cut running across his forehead, just barely starting to heal, was very possible. He was sitting cross-legged on the ground by the cell door, staring at me with the darkest eyes I'd ever seen. It may have just been the lighting, but they looked black.

He looked familiar, I decided.

"Do I know you, punk?" I demanded coldly, rolling over onto my side and giving him a hard stare. When he returned it I blinked, slowly and deliberately. Best let the kid know what he was getting into if he decided to strike up a conversation with me.

"Probably not," he told me, blinking back lazily, before glancing around himself, looking bored. I couldn't help but scowl slightly. I wanted to ask him if he knew who I was, if he knew I was _**the**_ Tim Shepard, leader of _**the**_ Shepard Gang, but decided against it. Like I said, don't show people your emotions, it makes you look weak.

"I see," was all I decided to answer, closing my eyes. If there was one good thing about the cooler, it let you get a good night's sleep, away from gangs and idiot siblings and fighting parents.

"So answer my question. You only got out last week, but now you're back. Why?" Okay, now I was getting ticked, and once I forced open my eyes I full-out glared at the kid, who still looked unfazed, gazing at me through lazy eyes. Rolling my own eyes, I sat up. If I answered him, he might leave me alone and I could get some _**sleep.**_

"Got into a fight with some tramp down by the train tracks." I shrugged, trying to sound like it didn't matter to me. It wouldn't, if the bastard hadn't belted me with that bottle. It hurt like hell, and I already knew I'd have a scar for the rest of my life. Then again, I was used to scars, so that didn't really faze me.

The kid looked a little interested now, raising an eyebrow and shifting so that he was facing me full front. If it didn't hurt to do it, I would have smirked. Seems the kid was finally starting to get it. And then, he shrugged.

"That's retarded. Why were you fighting with a tramp?" he asked, staring at me with his dark eyes. Narrowing my own eyes, I sat up straighter. This kid was really starting to push me.

"You really wanna know?" I hissed dangerously, stalking closer to the bars. The kid nodded.

"Yeah, I do," he replied, and I wanted to take a knife to him. What sort of _**kid**_ mouths off to a gang leader, huh?

"The asshole bad mouthed my name," I growled, clenching my fists. No anger, I told myself, but now that I let it slip, it wasn't going down without a fight. The kid just kept looking at me.

"How'd he do that?" he asked, his stare unwavering. I would have thought it was creepy, but by now I was too riled up to notice.

"He kept calling me Timothy," I answered in a low voice, trying not to sound pathetic. I mean, who beats the tar out of someone for calling them by their full name? Well, I did, but I had a good reason.

"Ok, so why did you fight with him about that?" the kid asked, as I expected he would. Even if he were annoying, at least he was predictable. With a sigh, I leaned against the cell door. Why did my name bother me so much?

Well, that was a long story.

First off, and probably the most obvious reason was my old man. The one who ran out on us after years of knocking me and my family around. His name was Timothy. So of course, whenever someone called me 'Timothy' I immediately felt like a drunk, a deadbeat, and someone who abused their family. Let me tell you, it's not a great feeling.

The second reason was one people either didn't remember, or don't dare talk about. You see, most greasers I know have pretty tuff sounding names. Curly, Steve, Darry, stuff like that. Timothy was a wuss name. Especially when people shortened it to Timmy. I _**hated**_ being called Timmy. It was practically taboo nowadays.

I know it wouldn't bother me so much if I hadn't once _**been**_ a Timmy. It was hard to believe, and like I said, those people who remember are sure to kept their traps shut, but when I was a kid – and I mean a _**kid**_ – I was pretty meek. I was shy at school, didn't like fights, and actually cared about shit.

But then, when I was something like eight or nine, I got jumped. A bunch of older kids – they had to be at least eleven or twelve – ganged up on me one day, behind the school. Told me I had a wuss name, so I had to be a wuss fighter.

Man, were they wrong.

Even if I didn't fight often I was still a greaser, and every greaser knows how to fight. Within 2 minutes they were all bleeding, thanks to a piece of pipe I found. And then you know what I did? I walked right up to their leader and I told him 'It's Tim. Tim Shepard.' From then on, that's who I became. I got tough, and people started respecting me. They wouldn't have done that if I were still Timmy Shepard now, would they?

"You gonna answer me?" Blinking back to reality, I glanced across at the kid, who was staring at me. Smirking – even if it killed to do it – I stood back up.

"What's your name, kid?" I asked as I layed back down on the concrete cot.

"Matthew. Matthew Cook," he told me, leaning back. Nodding, I closed my eyes.

"Night, Matthew," I called quietly, and I could already feel my mind starting to float away.

"Night, Timothy," was the last thing I heard, before I finally fell asleep.

Three weeks later, a sixteen year old boy named Matthew Cook was wheeled into the emergency room of the local hospital, bleeding heavily from his face. Bits of glass from the pop bottle he'd been hit with were still stuck in the cut. He would have that scar for the rest of his life.

Like I said, I had my ways.

THE END

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Ta daa! And there's my Tim oneshot. I'm not sure exactly where I got the idea from, but it just seemed like something that Tim would think about. I mean really, what sort of a gang leader name is Timothy?

Anyways, please remember to tell me everything I did wrong, and how out of character everyone is by reviewing!

StarsAndSparks44


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